


A Goddess Made Mortal and A Veil of Shadow

by GodlessOx, InfiniteSeahorse



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Humiliation, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Pre-Calamity Ganon, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Very Secret Diary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2020-11-22 23:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodlessOx/pseuds/GodlessOx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteSeahorse/pseuds/InfiniteSeahorse
Summary: Traysi's back with another special publication. This time, she's ventured into the castle herself, and she's found a secret diary, left under Princess Zelda's very own bed, recording a relationship she had with the Court Poet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a thrown-off idea from another work, Haunted, and my co-author, GodlessOx, and I eventually wrote it into a full-fledged fic of its own.
> 
> The character of Zalla, the Sheikah court poet, has been borrowed from GodlessOx's AU, Don't Mind the Gap.

Here's an extra heaping helping of the hottest gossip, brought to you by none other than me, Traysi! That's right, the Rumor Mill is back for a super special scoop, for adult eyes only. What could I be talking about, you wonder? Well, keep reading and see!

I'm sure you all have been wondering about the recent goings-on at the castle, or rather, lack of goings-on at the castle? Reports came in from all over the country to inform me that the Divine Beasts shot laser beams at the malice infested castle, explosions could be heard from miles away, and a giant beast made of smoke and infernal fire appeared in Hyrule Field, and I believed it all!

How close to the action were you, dear readers, when the hero and the princess blasted Ganon into a new dimension? I saw Vah Naboris light up the sky from Gerudo Town, but when the rumors started flying, I packed up and flew to central Hyrule on my own set of Wings-- Wings is what I call my team of horses, one for me and one for my writing supplies! The dust had settled by the time I arrived, and I could tell that our time of terror was over-- Ganon had been defeated and peace had returned to the land! But what of Princess Zelda and Link? Where had they gone? Eyewitnesses claimed they saw two disheveled figures leave Hyrule Field shortly after that golden ball of light obliterated the giant beast of nightmares. Other sources claim the heroes have been traveling around to every town and village in the country to spread the good news of their success, and I for one, think that's mighty nice of them. It cuts down on my printing costs for sure!

After three days of waiting at the Riverside Stable (can't recommend it as a place to stay the night-- Staff is friendly ★★★★☆ but the locale and smell is dismal ★☆☆☆☆) to make sure the clouds of malice didn't reappear in the sky around the castle, I went in there myself to scope the place out. I was jonesing for some primo goods, and I'm not talking about treasure, folks! With the help of my adventurous friend Parcy, we prowled the castle grounds and found research journals, recipe books, a few diaries filled with moderately interesting royal thoughts (nothing special ★★☆☆☆) and the hottest scoop I have ever laid eyes on, hiding near the dusty remains of the princess’ bed!

You guessed it, compadres, I found Princess Zelda's special, secret, hidden diary! And this baby is loaded with the juiciest, most jaw-dropping secrets imaginable!

Now I did feel a little bad right after taking the diary with me, but as the days passed, I realized something. The princess hasn't been seen in public for over a month (at the time of publication). I don't know what it's like to fight the incarnation of evil after holding it at bay for a century, but if I did, I don't know if I'd get through it alive. I'm not saying she perished shortly after her victory, but we can't rule out the possibility.

So, in honor of two months passing since the vanquishing of the Calamity, I have decided to print Princess Zelda's diary in full. 

The nature of this volume means that there will be much less added editorializing, and most of these entries will stand by themselves. Everything has been reproduced in full, including any scratched-out words and scribbles in the margins. I hope this satisfies those of you who wrote to me in hopes of learning more about the secret lives of the Champions of yesteryear.

* * *

The frustration I feel today is simply unbearable. My problem, of course, is my father. Why can't he see that my efforts at unlocking my powers have resulted in nothing but failure after failure? Why won't he let me rest? I feel the ancient technology calling to me, begging me to unlock their secrets instead, and it fills me with such longing. I am certain that this is the path forward, the contingency plan within our grasp, should I never unlock my sealing power. I will try tomorrow to ask him once again to let me spend more time with the excavation teams. I need all the help that the goddesses will provide.

* * *

If it is at all possible, I am even more despondent since the day before. My father, predictably, denied my request. He said that I am too distracted as it is, and if I do not continue with my prayers, I will not be allowed to accompany the research teams anymore. I was so distraught at lunch that Zalla sat on my side of the table for half an hour, playing my favorite songs of love and adventure. He lifted my mood until I had to leave, and as I sat in prayer before the great statue of Hylia, I thought about his voice, and how I had never paid much mind to it before today. It has a silvery quality to it, much like his hair that he keeps cut short in contrast to many of his Sheikah brethren.

**Editor’s Note-- An Introduction to the Court Poet:** Zalla was a 19 year old Sheikah musician and poet in the employ of the Crown at the time of the Calamity. He escaped from the castle and began a new life as a wandering minstrel, eventually taking on a Rito apprentice to pass on his knowledge of legends and heroes.

* * *

_ He  _ has been chosen as my knight attendant. Of course. I believe I will write about it elsewhere, so as not to contaminate this diary with excessive bad feelings. I think it goes for all of my less than charitable thoughts, not just the ones in relation to my new shadow.

**Editor’s Note:** _He_ refers to Link, the Champion chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness.

* * *

He kissed me. No, I kissed him. I am not sure who started it, but I do know who ended it. It was my dutiful, annoying, second shadow.  _ He _ came into the garden just as Zalla was about to demonstrate some advanced tongue placement techniques. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed when he interrupted us. The poet and I have become quite close since this new complication has come into my life.

What's more, he has promised to teach me a new dance for the Midsummer's Ball. Midsummer's Day has been my favorite holiday since I was a little girl, and I was afraid I would have nothing to look forward to this year, as my royal duties take up more and more of my time. He is the silver lining to the dark cloud of my life.

* * *

Last night. Last night! Oh I can barely begin to describe it. The joyous mood of the populace has been infectious in commoner and noble alike these past few days, and it culminated in my father being perfectly civil to me for the space of several hours. This gave me the proper state of mind to fully enjoy and partake in the merriment on offer. I went out to Castle Town and saw a play and an amusing show with jugglers, and I tried to get my fortune read, but the line was too long and it was time to go back to the castle and get ready for the ball before it was my turn.

The ball was simply splendid. I don't know what it is about music that makes a crowded hall full of people I normally can't stand bearable, but I found myself able to ignore the pointed glances and backhanded compliments that follow me everywhere, and I danced with abandon. I know I am not the most graceful maiden on the dance floor, but I enjoyed myself, and that is a rare feat these days. I can even say that  _ he _ is an accomplished dancer as well. His physicality extends into the realm of artistic bodily expression, which I suppose I had no reason to doubt.

Late in the evening, an incident occurred that I shall remember for the rest of my life. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, overcome with gaiety, challenged the entire Goron diplomatic corps to a drinking contest. Lord Walton lasted an impressive eight rounds (the rumors of his tippling problem might not be unfounded) before the lead diplomat unveiled his secret weapon— Fire Whiskey. It took only two shots of the potent brew before the lord deposited himself headfirst into the punchbowl! I took the resultant chaos as the perfect opportunity to give my shadow the slip. I had been trying all night to give myself a few moments of privacy, especially when Zalla was taking a break from playing. 

This time it worked perfectly. I was leaning against the railing on the far side of the long balcony outside of the ballroom. The shadows were thick where I stood, and I was certain no one could see me unless they had watched me walk there. After a few moments, a warm hand on my shoulder, and then one on my waist, startled me. The noise spilling out from the open doors must have muffled his approach. I tried to turn around, but Zalla told me to stay where I was. His hands began to explore my body while his lips trailed kisses up and down my neck and ears. It was thrilling! Being so close to the cream of Hylian society while allowing myself to be fondled like a streetwalker. Even thinking about it now leaves me a little breathless.

I smelled alcohol on his breath, but he said it was just a little liquid courage. He wouldn’t be able to play his instruments properly if he were imbibing heavily. I gathered my courage— it didn’t take much, he had pushed me so far out of my comfort zone I barely registered where my own boundaries were anymore— and I grabbed his hand. I guided it into the side slit on my dress, where the opening for my pocket was located. Being that this is the middle of the summertime, my ballgown did not have the usual number of petticoats and underskirts and all of that nonsense underneath it that I so detest. A single petticoat and a pair of my short split pants were all that I had on beneath my dress, and it was with utmost speed and skill that he found his way through the few skimpy layers of fabric to "alight upon my womanly secret", as he so  _ poetically _ claimed.

He held me so securely while he showed me  _ vibrato _ . He kissed me so deeply while he tried a  _ glissando _ . He called me his favorite instrument, but that made me think of being the broken instrument of Hylia, and I almost told him to stop, but I didn't want him to stop, so I told him to be quiet instead. I sang for him twice.

_ He _ found us shortly after my second  _ crescendo _ . He looked past my no doubt disheveled appearance to nod at the both of us, then he gestured at the closest doorway. The ball was over, and it was time to retire to my chambers. I slept more deeply last night than I have in the past fortnight. I wonder when I will have another opportunity to make music with him again.

**Editor’s Note: ** Midsummer’s Eve, a quaint tradition that has unfortunately fallen to the wayside as the country has fallen apart! Along with other festivals and the Rito Post, the Calamity has destroyed many of our cultural points of interest. What must it have been like, celebrating in one’s finest clothes, with the noblest people, eating and drinking the best refreshments, and sneaking off with one’s secret boyfriend? Thank you, Princess Zelda, for this unlikely snapshot of days gone by!

Of course, in the past, the chastity of noble women was guarded as fiercely as a lynel cub, so that poet must have had to drink some extra-strength liquid courage! 

* * *

This diary is getting more personal and unexpectedly full of incriminating information. I can't let this out of my room, or out on my desk where anyone can see it. From now on, I will only write about my dalliances in here, and it will stay under my bed. I will have to remember to write in my other diary for all my usual musings.

**Editor’s Note:** Sorry, princess, but the public knows now! You should have hidden your diary better than that!

* * *

He's started calling me "sweet flower" in the rare times we are alone. He seems to have three new "endearments" to address me by each day, but that was the first, and the only one I've yet to explicitly strike down… I don't think I shall either. Some illogical part of me smiles every time I hear the longing in his voice when he calls me that.

* * *

I am afraid that someone will begin to suspect the true depth of Zalla's affection for me if they take the time to listen to the lyrics of his most recent song. His behavior likewise grows more bold, and I think that he and Link have come to an understanding that gives us more time alone together than we would otherwise have. I have seen the looks they give each other in the common rooms.

He has been such a lovely distraction from the tedium and disappointment of my day to day life, and I wish we could meet more often, but I know it is not possible.

I am going to request that he compose a new song, one about a young researcher who discovers her life's purpose out in the field. I think that would make a beautiful ballad.

* * *

He refused my request. He said that my father had been speaking to him recently about his compositions, and he was told to make sure that the content did not include anything that was likely to have an influencing nature on impressionable young minds, unless it was influencing that mind, namely me, to strive ever harder toward the path of the Goddess. That incensed me. Why does my father want to take away all the happiness I have in the world? Can't I have even a bit of music to lift my spirits? Then he added that he would be able to write it down as a poem, to give to me privately, but I'm not holding my breath. I've been disappointed too many times to believe in the empty promises of mere words.

He made it up to me somewhat, by reciting an absolutely hilarious and completely inappropriate bawdy poem about the Hero of Time and a Great Fairy. Half of the fun was watching Link try to stifle the expression on his face as he listened along.

* * *

I had a rather interesting day. It started as dull as any other, with my shadow collecting me as the sun rose to take me to my morning prayers. It's growing increasingly difficult to hide my crestfallen mindset with each passing day of silence, but I refuse to let anyone see my weakness. The last thing my kingdom needs is me giving it another reason for disappointment and despair.

All my Champions are here. Father has ordered four days of feasting to celebrate the successful completion of their trials (and he calls my "playing scholar" a waste of time), and the activation of all four Divine Beasts. Each night, meals from each of the Champions' cultures will be served, starting with the Rito, as Revali was allegedly the first to complete his trials. We all broke fast together in the main dining hall. We moved to the observatory immediately after to discuss battle plans, training routines, evacuation routes, and at my earliest convenience, travel to the location of each Divine Beast to run diagnostic tests with the Sheikah Slate. Tensions were starting to run high (especially between Urbosa and Revali) around noon, so I decided the best course of action would be to summon food and entertainment for everyone.

I asked for Zalla and his violin, as I've only heard him play it once before. Perhaps that was inconsiderate of me. He once explained that the violin was a more personal instrument, and that he preferred to play it only for people he knew well… I wasn't thinking properly at the time. I should apologize to him when next we steal some time together.

I was surprised to see, along with the violin, a rather young Gerudo woman enter the room at his side. They seemed to be laughing at a joke shared just outside the doors. But then she surveyed the room and its inhabitants, and the laughter died. She froze as if cursed by cryomancy, looking down at Zalla from the corner of her eye she whispered, "You didn't say. Anything. About. Playing for the Champions."

Zalla smiled innocently at her, stating it must have slipped his mind. Then he bowed to us and asked for requests. Mipha tried to say something, only to be cut off by Revali who, in turn, was drowned out by Daruk's booming voice asking for "The Trials of Fire and Sand", which turned out to be an epic about a warband comprised of Gerudo and Gorons who drove the wolfos monster into extinction. I can't help but wonder if his request has anything to do with his cynophobia.

Zalla's Gerudo associate has a high, powerful voice and lungs able to hold a note for a frighteningly long time. I felt the queerest stab of envy each time the song called for harmonization.

Several songs and full stomachs later, the Gerudo woman excused herself before bolting for the door. My poet shook his head but said nothing. His expression was similar to my father's when he is disappointed in me. The key difference was the clear affection on Zalla's face as he politely explained away the woman's departure with words I didn't hear.

I was jealous again, in a way that twisted my stomach into a grotesque knot, and I can't understand why, or what I even envied her for.

He asked each of the Champions if they would consent to an interview with him. Mipha declined in her typical subdued manner of speech. I think she mentioned dry scales and needing a swim?

Revali didn't give the poor Sheikah a chance to ask. He just stood and began to regale the "awestruck" musician with tales of battle, and target practice, and well preened feathers.

Daruk sidled awkwardly around the duo, claiming it was naptime.

Urbosa seemed interested in speaking with him, but said, quite clearly intending for the Rito to hear her, she didn't have the energy for pushing Revali's ego out of her way, equating the action to smacking a cucco. The two then squabbled their way out of the room, Urbosa laughing harder and harder the more agitated Revali grew.

Then Zalla locked the door. The look in his eyes as he strode up the stairs was nothing short of intentful… among other things. I thought he was mad, ogling me so openly with my knight-protector in the room, but when I looked to the corner my knight had segregated himself to… I found nothing but empty space. He was gone. Zalla said Link had made his exit shortly after Mipha did. That made sense. Those two are close friends. Still, it was odd he'd risk punishment just to reminisce. I'm perfectly safe within the castle walls, yet I must still have him shadow me everywhere.

He--Zalla gave me a neatly folded sheet of paper, telling me he'd written music for me despite himself. A force of habit, he mused. My poem. The one I asked for. And it serves as a song too! I was so overjoyed that I threw myself into his arms, which, I admit, was a little unbecoming of me. Embarrassing, even.

I felt something hard press into my belly when I embraced him. He apologized, explaining he had no shame. Not when it came to me.

We haven't been truly alone like that since the ball, and I'd never returned the favor, so I touched him, through his tunic and trousers. In retrospect, that was likely a very crass thing to do. But given the sound he made, I doubt it irked him. He did, however, remove my hand from his person with a rather mournful look, then quickly explained that while he appreciated my willingness to take advantage of the opportunity, it was a messy activity and the aftermath tended to stain, and he didn't have a handkerchief.

I let my confusion be known, asking him why he would do something for me without asking or expecting something in turn. His smile was wolfish as he explained that the memory was more than enough for when he returned to his chambers for the night. He then immediately backtracked by saying it was mostly sufficient, and that he'd gladly take me up on my offer at a later date. I couldn't help but giggle at his flustered state. He laughed too.

Then his hands were on my hips and his hot breath was at my ear. He told me he tasted me, that night at the ball. That after I'd left, he couldn't help but sample my "flower's nectar." He started taking liberties with his hands, teeth nibbling my earlobe.

"What I'd like nothing more to do is to taste it again. From the source this time. I never thought a woman could be so sweet."

I didn't understand. Not fully, and he seemed to guess that. "I want to kiss your lower lips, if you'll allow it."

I shuddered, wondering about the intricacies of his request. I quickly decided the key to understanding would be through firsthand experience, and I nodded as he started groping at my breasts.

He sat me down on one of the long plush benches on the upper floor of the observatory. Kneeling in front of me, he carefully lifted the hem of my dress, and slid his hand up my leg. He gave me a devious smirk before he disappeared beneath the expanse of fabric. My small clothes were hanging from my ankles in an instant, but it felt like an eternity before his tender lips completed their journey to the apex of my thighs. He was true to his word about kissing me there. He kissed and licked and sucked, and that did nothing but leave me wanting for more. I realized he was teasing me, when his tongue finally divided my “lower lips” and circled around that little button (for lack of a more accurate word) he’d unintentionally introduced me to that night at the ball. I squirmed around, trying to get his apparently adept tongue to focus on that spot with limited success. Once, twice, maybe? I felt it fully against me, and my hips jerked into his mouth of their own accord. But then it was gone, further down, lapping and probing my at entrance. Exciting in its own right, but nothing more than a cruel tease in the end. I begged him. “Please,” I said, unable to voice my needs beyond that single word. Zalla sighed, his breath making my whole body shiver. Then a hungry grunt came from under my clothes and his tongue was attacking that sensitive patch of flesh without mercy.

I was ashamed of myself for begging. Begging for anything is well beneath me. But to beg a man to pleasure me like that? No amount of scoffing from “well-bred” nobles, no lecture from my debate master on how a monarch should never yield to their “lessers”, not a single reminder of how “improper” and “wrong” what I was letting happen to me was…  _ Nothing _ could ever make me regret the way I felt in the moment I pleaded to him, let alone make me feel guilt for what happened after.

Zalla’s fingers pushed into me when I grabbed his head through the fabric of my dress. Or maybe it was the other way around. My memory is a little hazy around there. I do remember nearly falling into a lying position as I rocked my hips against his face without a care. I remember having to cover my mouth as my legs twitched helplessly on his shoulders, unsure of when they ended up there. I remember feeling sweaty, and sticky, and gross-- and too tired and happy to care-- when I finally came down from the peak.

He snuggled up next to me on that couch. Holding me, humming softly, and running his hands through my hair until I felt less like a baffled chuchu, and more like a rational human being again. We stayed there like that for awhile, actually. I can still feel the vibrations against my cheek and ear as I leaned into his chest, his deep voice telling me about his day as if he hadn’t just ravaged me. It was a wonderful moment. I nearly cursed the Three when it finally had to end. But both of our days had to go on.  _ My _ day had to go on. At least my evening prayers were bearable tonight. The expected and enduring silence emanating from Hylia’s statue didn’t feel quite so hollow. Not when I filled the space between us by humming a simple tune.

**Editor’s Note:** I told myself to lay off on the editorializing this time around (Good one, Traysi!) but I can’t help it! Take notes, everyone! This is how a true gentleman acts. Eagerness to please and a giving spirit are the best ways to guarantee a future invite between your lover’s legs, as we’ll see later on. Our dear princess was quite a lucky woman!

* * *

I apologized to him today about the violin. Zalla has the sweetest smile. Soft and joyful. He thanked me, but said he wasn't upset.

"It's good to get out of your comfort zone every now and again… and for you, I'd try anything once. Anything to see a little spark of joy in those emerald depths. I'd even go for a swim."

Swim? He blushed when I asked what he meant. Apparently, water is his "elemental weakness".

"Like electricity and Zoras. A bolt of lighting so much as looks at them, and they drop dead. I barely trust water caught in a glass."

He produced a dagger from somewhere (I was distracted by the movement of his lips in that moment) and slipped it hilt first into his goblet. He jumped from the table and turned to Link.

"He's got a knife! Quickly, Sir Knight, slay him before he slaughters us all!"

I swear I saw Link's eyebrow twitch. Perhaps that was just a trick of the light.


	2. Chapter 2

Earlier today I got Zalla alone in one of the armor niches in a rarely used hallway on the second floor. It was my singular and express purpose to pleasure him orally, or as the more common expression has it, "blow him". I don't know why it's called that, there's no blowing involved, although at one point he said I was playing him like a flute, so maybe there's some truth to the expression after all.

I was in the process of kneeling when he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. I could see desire, disbelief, and guilt warring in his face as he told me that, as his princess, I shouldn't be kneeling before him.

I replied, with a bit of impatience, that he had two choices; either I kneeled, or he could enjoy the experience while lying down on the cold, stone floor.

He stammered a bit, then with a slow smile, leaned back against the wall and let me remove his belt. With a hint of hesitation in his voice, he asked if I didn't think what I was about to do was a little undignified.

"How is this any more undignified than the things you've already done to me?" I replied. I let him think about it while I released him from his trousers and fundoshi. I looked at  _ it, _ and Zalla looked at me, and then I realized that I had no idea what I was doing. The bits and pieces I have overheard from castle staff have all been frustratingly vague, and I had not thought of a way to broach Urbosa on the subject without incriminating myself in the process.

I decided to lick him. He had surprised me when used his tongue on me, and it felt good– exceptionally good!– so surely doing so would result in a similarly gratifying experience for him as well.

How do I describe the sounds he made as I experimented with the placement of my tongue? His whole body tensed and then relaxed after that first lick, and he let out the softest sigh… but it felt like so much more than a sigh! I wish I could borrow my poet’s brain, that I may be able to accurately detail his subtle moans. How he whispered my name. The way he whimpered slightly when I started to focus on the tip. Perhaps I should ask him for writing lessons? I’ve only ever learned practical, straightforward ways to describe and explain. Maybe learning a freer, more imaginative way to recount my perspective of the world would be good for me.  <strike> Perhaps it could even help with </strike>

After awhile, he politely asked me if I would like to know a more efficient way to please him. He told me to take it into my mouth… I would like to slap myself, in hindsight, for not thinking of that on my own. Even with what little knowledge I have regarding sex, I know that a man's organ is for penetration.

He warned me to mind my teeth (the warning to be careful of how far I took it in came a little late for my liking). He grabbed my hand to show me which motions he enjoyed, and told me to suck, when I could.

Zalla had to cover his mouth to muffle his more excited outbursts once I found a proper rhythm. Even then I could still hear his approval. He would briefly move his hand away to murmur, in a low voice filled with enthusiasm, to tell me to grip tighter or lighter. To move faster or slower. It felt like I had barely started before my jaw began to ache. I did not wish to disappoint him by stopping, so I powered through the pain. Some part of my discomfort must have been visible after awhile, because he asked, between pleased gasps, if I was okay. I hummed in affirmation, and the transmitted vibration must have been very pleasurable for him, because a short time after that, he spilled his seed in my mouth. I am glad he warned me beforehand, so I could prepare to swallow the extra volume. The taste was… Not entirely unpleasant. A little salty, and faintly bitter.

He kissed me when I rose. Gently at first, then in a deeper, more invasive way. A faintly displeased grunt escaped him, but he didn't pull away. I still wove my fingers into his hair, just in case. I imagine he tasted himself, like I tasted myself on his lips that afternoon in the observatory (He either greatly exaggerates the sweetness of it, or his taste buds are defective in some way.)

He thanked me, and complimented my performance. "I shouldn't be surprised," I heard him say as he lowered himself to his knees. "You're a quick learner. Determined in everything you do." It was as he began to lift the skirts of my dress that we heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall, followed by a woman's voice yelling, "ZeZe!"

The shouting continued as Zalla buckled his belt in blind panic. The agitated woman was shouting something about Pinkfin saying he'd gone this way. Zalla cursed someone by the name of Sandy and told me he'd make this up to me.

I was too frightened and panicked to say anything to him. If we had been caught like this, even if both our faces weren't flushed, and Zalla wasn't a sweating mess… I honestly don't want to continue that line of thought.

He must have seen my agitation, because he told me it was just his sister, who would be easy to distract. He slipped out of our hiding place and glided quietly to the source of the, now very profane, yelling.

It's been a full day, and my heart has yet to fully recover from the stress, fear, and to my surprise, excitement of the experience. Something about the risk involved makes the pleasures I share with Zalla more fulfilling. I wonder if there is a way to subtly discover the reason for that. I doubt there are any books in the library that come even remotely close to the subject.

* * *

I don't know how many people know about this, but there are a series of hidden study rooms built behind movable bookshelves in the library. I have known about their existence for several years, owing to my fondness for the library and trying to winnow out its secrets. The reason why I am writing this down is to remind myself to select a room and tidy it in preparation for an event I hope will soon come to pass.

I need a space that is larger than the oversized nooks that line so many of the castle’s hallways, and I really don't want to share a room with a suit of armor again!

Zalla has put an idea into my head, and I want to  <strike> act it out with him </strike> .  <strike> Surprise him with it </strike> . At the very least, discuss it with him beforehand, since there will be some scheduling to work out and, because he is so tender and cautious around me, I want to present it in the best light possible.

I made the mistake of asking Link if he would guard the door to my chambers again. He had done it once before, back when my relationship with Zalla had still been platonic, so I thought he might be amenable to the idea. He said he would,  _ but only if he could watch what we were doing! _ I almost slapped him, my reflex to his indecorous reply was so strong that my entire arm twitched, but instead, I asked him right back how he was supposed to guard me if he was on the wrong side of the door. It took him no time at all to say that as the head of my royal guard, he could easily reassign the other guards who patrol the west wing of the castle to be farther away down the hall, or entirely absent… 

My shock must have been plain to see on my face, because Link started to backtrack immediately. I haven’t heard him speak so much in ages, which was almost as shocking as what he had just said to me. He began to insist that it was just a joke, and that he did not really want to watch, and furthermore, he would be accused of dereliction of duty if my father found out about what I had been doing. I didn’t want to hear any more, my ears were numbed by his contrived excuses, so I cut him off and told him to forget about it. It is clear to me that I will have to hide all evidence of this relationship more thoroughly. We did not speak again for the rest of the day.

I was seeing red for hours after that, and my evening prayers were utterly ruined. I knelt there, in front of that silent statue, and could only think of myself and my poet, lost in pleasure together on my bed, with my knight attendant watching silently as ever from the corner of the room, forbidden from moving, his eyes alight with lust.

**Editor's Note:** The rooms that Zelda mentions are well known among treasure hunters, but they have been stripped of everything but their books and broken furniture for years.

* * *

I claimed to have a chill in order to bring my floor length, quilted cloak with me to the library this morning, and I left it in the secret room after dusting off the table, single chair, and small bookshelf in there. The staff in charge of cleaning clearly have no idea of these rooms' existence. I must have removed years of cobwebs from the walls. There was a rug on the floor, in a similar state of decrepitude, and I rolled it up and switched it with another from the larger common area.

It's not much, but at least we won't be rolling on the bare ground, covered in dust and sneezing on each other.

* * *

I managed to schedule a meeting (that sounds so formal, it was nothing of the sort) in the library this afternoon. Zalla is often researching or reading in the library after lunchtime, so it was simple enough to switch my deportment lesson for independent study in the library. Once the coast was clear, I slipped past the bookcase and into the waiting arms of my poet. I told him we had no more than an hour before my lady in waiting would come to collect me for (ugh) posture and politeness class, so we needed to plan accordingly.

I want to record parts of our “conversation”… for posterity.

“You are my golden one.”

“Then you must follow the Golden Rule.”

“Refresh my memory. What is the Golden Rule?”

“You must treat your princess the way she wants to be treated, of course.”

“And how does my princess wish to be treated?”

“Like any other woman you care for.”

“I hope you don't mean my mother, or goddess forbid, my  _ sister. _ ” He shuddered theatrically, which made me smile. He has such a charming way of injecting levity into any situation, but I knew I had to explain myself further.

“I simply mean that I am not as fragile as you think I am. Sometimes, I require a firm hand to be dealt with properly. And you must tell me, with equally firm words, that I am not a precious princess. Not now.”

“I have never once seen you as fragile. I am simply a gentleman by nature. But if this is what you want, I shall do my best to oblige.” 

“I do want it. And I want you to call me shameful things. I am not your ‘sweet flower’ today… I am your…” It was hard to say it out loud, though I needed to badly, “your harlot.”

How his eyes changed when he heard me! They flashed with interest, and their color deepened to the darkest crimson. I melted under those eyes! And his lips, when he kissed me, were so rough with intensity that I gasped.

But kissing was only the beginning of our time together, and we quickly moved on to other delights. He backed me up against the wall as we both worked at the buttons and laces of my dress.

“What’s a whore like you doing with such fine clothing?” he growled into my ear. “I can feel your heart racing. Is it because you stole them? Best to take them off before your work ruins them.” His coarse words carried enough weight to make me feel slightly anonymous, a fleeting feeling that allowed me to forget myself for a few precious minutes.

Once I was down to my small-clothes, I turned my attention to Zalla. His clothes were almost as complicated to remove as mine, but perhaps that was because my trembling fingers kept getting in the way. I caught a peek of his body when he was stepping out of his trousers. The light was dim, as only one candle was lit, but what I saw was enough to drop my jaw. Many men would take the opportunity for a court appointment as an excuse to become soft, to enjoy the rich food and mental pursuits on offer while neglecting the physical side of life, but Zalla was not one of them. I admit that I was attracted to his wit, charm, and lyrical skill before I ever thought about how pleasing his profile looked against the backdrop of the stone walls and tapestries in the dining hall, or how the curl of his lips set my heart aflutter, and I had scarcely given two thoughts about what his body might look like underneath his professionally tailored garb. It was after I saw him for the first time, on my knees, I think, is when my curiosity finally took root. Just how different is a man's body from my own? How similar would it be? Suddenly, I had my answer in front of me. A flexing of muscle, a shimmer of white body hair (he has hair on his chest as well as around his genitals), and I was thankful for what the weak light had shown me.

Although, I suppose I didn't need to see him fully, when I could feel him, pressed against me from knees to nose. His need for me was apparent, and he ground against me most insistently. Starved for touch as I am, his body on mine was heavenly to experience. He worked his hands around to my back to undo my breast bindings, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. Then his hands wandered lower to my rear and squeezed me gently as we kissed. “Harder,” I told him, and he dug his fingers into me slightly. “More, please,” I begged, and he pulled me from the wall, turning me away from it so he had the space to draw back his hand and slap me full on my backside.

“There you go.” Another slap. “It’s what you deserve.”

“Yes,” I was nearly sobbing with relief and pleasure. “Yes, it is.” I thought I might have to give him more instruction as to what to say, but he took my cues perfectly, and seemed to anticipate my desires.

He turned me around, so his arousal pressed against my rear and his hands had unimpeded access to my breasts. He focused on them, touching them softly, then harder, testing my response to different amounts of pressure. He toyed with my nipples, too, and every time a jolt of pleasure raced through me, I bucked in his hands, and he made sure to repeat what he had done before. One of his hands made its way slowly down my chest and stomach, and my breath quickened when I realized where he was going to end up. I sighed in anticipation when his fingers found their way to my inner thigh, squeezing tightly before returning to my waistband to slip under my silk pantaloons.

“You’re soaked. You're a good little slut, aren’t you? So eager. You can't wait to be defiled, can you?” His fingers traced delicate circles around the spot I needed his touch most, but moved no closer.

“No, I can't. Please don't make me wait,” I begged, and he withdrew his fingers. Before I could protest, he moved to face me again and kissed me reassuringly.

“No more waiting,” he agreed, and lowered his lips to my neck and collarbone, drawing a line of heat with his mouth and breath, lower and lower still. I ran my hands through his hair as he teased the skin below my navel with his tongue.

He yanked down my pantaloons before standing. In a second, my legs were wrapped around his waist as he moved to dump me rather unceremoniously on the table in the room’s center. A hand between my breasts pushed me onto my back. He leaned over me, eyes wandering over every inch of me. We’d become familiar with each other in increasingly intimate ways since that night on the balcony, but he’d never seen me naked before then. He looked transfixed and ravenous. I could hardly handle his gaze as it sought out the imperfections of my body; an unsightly mole on my left breast, a hideous scar on my knee from a riding accident (why does my stallion insist on being such an unwieldy beast?). His hand, followed by his lips, touched my flaws gingerly.

He pulled the chair forward to sit on, and I heard him call me beautiful under his breath— a guilty look briefly taking over his features as he no doubt remembered my request, and quickly amended himself by adding, “For a whore.” I paid him no mind. He is effusive in his praise, and I never know when to take him seriously. It is in his nature as a poet to wax rhapsodic over the most trivial and common things, like bananas, and dewdrops, and princesses in the dark.

I could no longer tell what the temperature was in the room. Zalla's touch was like fire on my cold, bare skin, and his gaze, too, burned as he studied my reaction. At first, I couldn't look away as he took his tongue to that curious bundle of nerves hiding above my entrance. I still can’t believe I had never known it was there before the first night he touched me. The few times he had previously ventured beneath my petticoats, my clothing had necessarily remained in place, and I could only feel, and not see, his actions upon me. The absence of a visual barrier must have excited him too, because he did not take his eyes from mine as he increased his attentions. But the intensity of his piercing stare overwhelmed me, and I had to close my eyes and turn away.

He stopped as soon as my eyes shut. ”Look at me," he ordered. My attention was back on him immediately. “You'll look at me if you want yours, whore. I want to see you enjoying this." He curled an arm protectively around my thigh, and I nodded. I was loathe to have him stop, so I kept my eyes on him as he plunged his fingers inside me and curled them forward, finding that spot that made me sing with ecstasy on the night of the ball. With every rhythmic motion of his tongue and steady caress of his fingers, a tide of pleasure rose in me until I was twitching my hips into his mouth and my legs began to shake.

My chest felt tight with competing feelings as his eyes briefly fluttered shut. The sound he made was close to animalistic when he increased the tempo of the hand working hard inside me. His other hand fell from my leg, leaving frigid air in its place. I risked breaking my gaze to see where it had gone. I’m never able to predict what his actions will be, and I doubted my heart could handle surprises in that moment.

His free arm trailed off under the table, flexing and moving– he was stroking himself! I groaned and he chuckled, barely fluctuating in his rhythm. I let my head fall back on the table while gripping his head tightly with my hands and thighs. Mercifully, he didn’t let up despite his previous threat.

My voice was a hoarse whisper as I asked him not to stop. He stayed where he was, pressed into me as all thought faded from my mind and my climax came bearing down upon me. I couldn’t look at him if I tried, but my body’s response and my broken cry let him know the full extent of my pleasure.

He continued to stroke me, gently now, as he rose to nip and suck and grope at my breasts. I never knew they were so sensitive. I always enjoy his fondling, but the many layers of fabric I always wear dilutes the effects it has on me. Although, even when completely naked, caressing them myself is nowhere near as pleasurable as his touch through my clothing.

I shuddered when he whispered in my ear, “It’s time to earn your keep, whore.”

He then commanded me with an impatient grunt and a jerk of his head towards the rug. He must have said something I didn't hear… I was in a haze, staring at him blankly. In a second I was flipped onto my stomach. A firm slap to my backside returned me to reality. “Rug, hands and knees, now.”

I’ve never heeded an order so fast in my life. He was fully immersed in the role I’d given him at that point, and I didn’t want to break the spell by dawdling. His calloused hands found my rear again, squeezing it roughly before smacking it again. He told me there wasn’t a finer ass in Hyrule. I rolled my eyes, safe in the knowledge he couldn’t see my reaction to his exaggeration.

But then he was kissing it me my … “I’m beginning to think you actually bought that lovely dress. I bet there’s a long line of noblemen at your door each night, all dying to take a ride.”

I buried my face in the rug. Between his words and what he was doing– it felt like he was drooling on me!– It was exactly the treatment I asked for; confusing, humiliating, overwhelming, and wonderful…

I heard a rustling of fabric as he pulled my cloak over us, then he pressed his erection firmly between us. He braced himself on one hand, setting the other to work between my legs again, thrusting into me as a counterpoint to rocking his hips. I understood then, why Zalla had covered me in his saliva; it acted as a lubricant, letting him rut against me without causing either of us discomfort.

Being under him like that, like animals in heat– he was using me, but he still cared for me– brought me joy. For once in my life, I fully understood why I felt something. I  <strike> was </strike> am wanted. And I make someone else happy. Truly happy. Zalla's grunts, moans, and occasional whines are  _ still _ ringing in my ears. I pushed back against him, and he stilled momentarily, telling me to keep going. "That's it! Filthy slut–" I think he was going to say more, but cut himself off with a low groan as he started moving with me. He stopped only once, for the briefest of moments to… reapply lubrication.

"Filthy slut" was a very apt description of what I was reduced to in that moment. I've never felt further away from the failure that is my life as I did then.

He came with an almighty groan, and I felt a hot spray of liquid drip onto my back. He muffled himself by clamping his mouth on my shoulder, his teeth digging painfully into me. Between that pain, the dutiful rhythm of Zalla's fingers, his pleasure, and the warmth of his seed upon my skin, my second peak, and the high, fractured, and indecent noise that accompanied it were inevitable. Quick as a flash, his hand covered my mouth, and he freed his mouth to whisper in my ear, “Keep quiet, slut! You don’t want to attract any unwanted attention now, do you?” His tone, or his words, I’m not sure which, excited me to no end, and caused another thrilling wave of euphoria to pass through me.

My limbs could support me no longer, and I lowered myself to the ground. Zalla followed, and held me close while he covered us in my cloak.

He asked me if I was okay. I didn't hear his exact phrasing, but he was worried he'd hurt me, physically or mentally. "I'll be alright," I told him, trying to take stock of my emotions. "Hold me, please?" I just… needed something softer, I think. I'm still unsure of what my exact needs were in that moment. He pulled me closer, held me tighter, nuzzling me. It was a quiet moment. I wish it could have lasted longer. But he told me if I was well enough, we needed to clean up.

He came prepared. He pulled a bag out from under the table that held waterskins and rags.

The familiar feeling of loneliness began to spread through me even before we parted. Before I went back to being the "Goddess-blood" princess, who can't even see Koroks, let alone commune with Hylia Herself. My other half. Supposedly. My ancestral mother by some accounts. Me, by others. I don't feel like a goddess in mortal flesh. If the court ever did see me as such, they no longer do (half of them think I've let my knight-attendant deflower me. They think I can't hear them. They are very wrong). Zalla thinks I am. He never says it– he knows it upsets me– but I see it in his eyes. Even when we're in the company of others, I can still see that reverence.

What does he see in me, that I cannot find in myself? I don't deserve him. He must be a fool, wasting his time on me. Never expecting, rarely asking, and taking only what I offer him. He could have any woman in Hyrule. He chooses me. I thought all this as we parted ways, before pushing them to the far corner of my mind, where all my self-pity and weakness belongs. Where I wish I could force my doubt to reside.

No. No. There's no point in thinking about that now.

Zalla makes me happy. I make him happy. I can shut off my analytical nature long enough to enjoy the simplicity of that.

**Editor's Note:** Well! If this is what the nobles of old meant by 'conversation', then perhaps that really was the answer to Mipha's little word puzzle.

Tragedy aside, I’m adding up the reasons why it’s awesome to be a princess, and “access to an adoring, multi-talented Sheikah musician who is willing to join in sexual role play” has just gone to the top of the list! Boy, do I wish I had a man like that– one who will take direction without complaint!

* * *

I made Link smile on our last expedition to the springs of Power and Courage. Not the slight twitch that plays at the corner of his mouth, betraying his thoughts. No, this was a genuine, toothy grin. He looked utterly ridiculous… and strangely adorable.

The amount of cooking he does during our travels has increased exponentially since my apology to him. He is a master. I want to be annoyed, for he seems to excel effortlessly at every task he undertakes, but I really do enjoy the food he can produce from little more than preserved rations and foraged plants.

I asked him what would have been, if he hadn't been a knight's son. He stared at me for a long time before shaking his head and shrugging. I half-heartedly suggested he become a baker.

That's when he smiled.

I've been riding the feeling of accomplishment that instilled in me for nearly a week now.

* * *

I have just returned from a fantastic and successful research trip down to the Zonai ruins in Faron. I left all my diaries at home, because I used all the available space in my daypack for my research journals. I'm choosing to recount my adventures in a more personal style here, lest anyone stumble across my main diary and grow suspicious of my "extracurricular" activities.

The research team consisted of me, Link (of course, do I really need to say it), a large number of Imperial guardsmen (ever since the attempt on my life by the Yiga Clan in the Gerudo Desert, the guard attending my trips outside the castle has doubled in size), Purah and Robbie (though he quickly got bored when we did not discover any trace of ancient guardians in the area), and best of all, Zalla. He has a keen interest in ancient civilizations, like those of the Zonai and of the Sheikah from ten thousand years ago, and often accompanies these research parties. I consider him an invaluable member, in fact, because he is fluent in several languages and dialects, both modern and ancient, and can translate the carvings found on many of the buildings we study.

After the pleasure we shared in the library, it was hard not to drag him behind every suitably sized ruin and jump into his strong, eager arms, but for the whole week-long survey, we shared only a handful of stolen kisses. It was simply too dangerous, with so many eyes upon me at all times. I would trade it all away for his hands– no, his tongue! On me once again. Perhaps that is too rash of me. It really was a successful expedition, and I have written much about it in my research journals. I feel confident that if we keep looking to the past to find out how they contained the Calamity all those years ago, we will be able to do the same.

**Editor’s Note:** I’ve been to those ruins, or ones in the general area. If you like stories of dragons and don’t mind a little humidity, the jungles of Faron are a great place to visit, any time of year!

* * *

I asked Zalla how he always seemed to know where I would be before I had a chance to inform him of my day’s schedule. My days might be busy, but if I did the same thing every day at the same time I think I would die of boredom. We have been able to steal many quick moments together around the castle, owing to his newfound capacity for being in the right place at the right time.

He confessed that he was being fed information by none other than my tireless companion, Link. I expressed my disbelief that he would do such a thing, and he said that at first, he was pressuring my knight to tell him of my upcoming whereabouts, but after seeing the improved mood I was in after our encounters, Link, of his own volition, would whisper a few words about my plans for the day whenever their paths crossed. I truly never would have guessed. That man is full of secrets.

* * *

Urbosa publicly congratulated Link and I today on our improved relationship, but later on, she cornered me in my study, while I was showing her the latest fruits of my research. She began by asking me a few seemingly innocent questions about how I had been holding up recently, then continued more pointedly, asking me if I had been doing anything in particular to combat the stress of my continual failures. I should be kinder, that wasn’t how she phrased it.

Her questions were so gently inquisitive and her tone so matter-of-fact and caring that I answered her without thinking.

I fell right into her trap.

I mentioned, offhandedly, that I found a great deal of comfort in Zalla’s presence and music. My first mistake, I think, was mentioning the court poet by name. My second? Specifically stating his presence as a point of solace. She honed in on my slip-up in much the same way an octorok would a hapless passerby.

Her questions continued in that same innocent way and, as Urbosa is the only adult in my life who hasn’t sought to use me for their own gain, I saw no harm in telling her about my infatuation with Zalla. This is roughly the conversation that followed.

“Little bird, how close would you say you are with this voe?”

I had to think diplomatically about that before answering. “Rather close, I would say. Closer than any friend I have had in years.”

“That’s good to hear, I know most people in the court are a little stuffy to be good company. But tell me, how close are you really with this voe? He looks… very fondly at you.”

Of course she had noticed the way he looked at me. I wonder who else has noticed? I buried my head in my hands, unable to go on. It was embarrassing, despite the affection I hold for her. “We… we do spend time alone together, when we can,” I eventually confessed.

“Zelda,” Urbosa’s tone was that same conversational  _ we might as well be discussing the formation of clouds shaped like Vah Naboris _ tone she had begun this interrogation with. “I was your age once… and I know what’s it like to have an attractive, silver-tongued voe follow me around like a well-trained sand seal.” She paused to chuckle. “Several, in fact. It’s a blessing and a curse. What do you two get up to, when you are alone?’

She was really going to drag it out of me, bit by bit. She was patient as a statue of the Seven, and looked at me with much the same regard. “It usually starts with talking.” Urbosa waited. “Then we kiss.”

She waited again, for a long moment. I swear I saw her bite back a sigh. “Sometimes I forget how… delicate these matters are among Hylians. There is no shame in simply talking about sex in the desert, and almost none to the act itself. Little bird, I simply worry for you, that is all. I wish… to lend you my wisdom.” To say I was mortified would be the understatement of my life.

How did she know? Maybe it was just a passing thought she couldn’t let rest? My best theory? It was purely a guess, and I unintentionally filled in the blanks myself.

She continued, completely ignorant to my horror, “I suppose the thing you need to know most is this; even if he doesn’t finish inside you, there is still a chance you could become pregnant with his child. Some voe are quite virile, and there’s no way to tell until it’s too late.”

I stared at her from between my fingers. Her advice echoed in a far off part of my brain, where I appreciated her concern with a detached logic that seemed a thousand miles away from the greater part of me. I opened my mouth. I had to tell her… something. So she wouldn’t worry as much over me. Unfortunately, the truth was the only thing I could summon. “We’ve been… intimate. Not– not in the way that you think! But in other ways.”

It didn’t work. She tilted her head and gave me a look that made me glad I wasn’t her actual daughter.

“Zelda, you are gifted and skilled in many ways, but lying, at least to me, is not one of them. All I ask is that you be honest with me. I am not here to pass judgement. What you do with your life is your own choice. I know that may be a foreign concept to you, but it is the truth.”

I have _never once lied_ _to Urbosa!_ Even now, thinking of that accusation makes my throat burn in frustration. I nearly shouted at her, telling her rather loudly, “That I am! Being honest with you.” 

Then, she actually apologized.

She told me she’d never seen anyone squirm around the matter the way I did, and it made her think… She apologized again, and reiterated, “I only want to help you.” She looked at the ceiling, and I thought that perhaps she was praying silently for strength to deal with the troublesome child trying to edge unnoticed towards the door. “The thought is tempting, isn’t it?”

And then she was leaning on the only door in my study. There would be no escaping from this conversation. I nodded. It was true, after all. Whenever Zalla ground against me, when I felt his arousal pressed into my hips or my rear or, on rare and wonderful occasions, between my legs, I found myself overrun with the curiosity of what it would be like to have him inside me. I’m not foolish enough to ask for that, and neither is he, but I didn’t get a chance to inform Urbosa of that fact, for she grabbed her bag and began to line up seven slender bottles on my desk. I fought the urge to bolt for the now unguarded door. I’d curse my curiosity, but staying turned out to be worth it in the end.

Urbosa pointed to the dark purple liquid and explained, “I never leave Gerudo Town without these. Just in case I find a voe worth humoring, and that turns into something more entertaining.” It felt like she was trying to avoid saying “sex” again, lest it frighten me away. I’m not sure whether or not to find that condescending.

No, it wasn't. Definitely not from Urbosa.

“I don’t know how they work, but they stop a voe’s seed from quickening.” She risked looking at me, and I am proud to say, I  _ held her gaze _ ! Ha! Of course I didn’t. Holding my own in uncomfortable situations? I’m a failure at that too. I still feel awful about how I treated Link…

Why I am hesitating to finish this entry? Writing my thoughts doesn’t mean I will choose… or that he’d even... But I want to, I think. Urbosa told me to take them everyday around the same time, but not to do anything until the third day, when the effects start. She told me that she didn’t know how to make them herself, but would be sending a letter with instructions written by the apothecary she buys the elixirs from.

“They’re mostly effective. It’s rare for them to fail any vai… but if that happens… the Sheikah have elixirs of their own. I doubt your voe would know how to make one, or where to get it, but I do. Send me a letter if that ever happens.” Urbosa was quiet for a long moment that seemed to distress her. I didn’t understand what she meant. Should the elixirs fail? They sounded safe… even when I pressed her to explain further, I still doubt it would ever come to such a thing.

“You are very young, little bird, too young to be a mother in my eyes. And unwed, a thing Hylians frown heavily upon. I shudder to think what the court–” I’m pretty sure meant my father specifically– “would do to you and your voe, should evidence surface of your… affections.”

It was then that I understood what she meant. I didn’t know how to feel about that then, and I still don’t know how to feel now. I want to put the thought out of my head. Maybe dig a nice hole somewhere and set it ablaze before burying the ashes. I… think I will cross that bridge should I ever come to it. I have faith that the elixirs hiding with this diary under my bed will do their job, and do it well, as they have done for the Gerudo for… Oh, I forgot to ask Urbosa about the history behind these pregnancy preventing vials. Perhaps when she is here next.

I asked her what she would do without the elixirs, to which she quite evilly replied, “There are others ways to obtain intimacy, as I’m sure you know well by now.”

My next question was pitiful in its nature and in its tone. “Can we stop talking about this now?”

“No. Grab a seat and get comfortable. You’re going to tell me everything you know, so I can fill in the gaps of your knowledge.”

Half an hour passed.

_ Half an hour of agony _ .

Blessedly, miraculously, a knock sounded at the door. It was Link, bearing an apologetic smile. He knows I  _ normally _ treasure my time with Urbosa. He whispered the words, "History class," and made room for me to exit my study (I thanked Din profusely in my evening prayers for not continuing to test my resolve in that room). I've never wanted to hug him before then. Certainly never so fiercely. I didn't. But imagining the confusion on his face if I had in that moment brings me great joy. A missed opportunity. I need to thank him for his timely rescue somehow. Maybe I should see about granting him leave? He'll be reluctant, but I know he misses his family and friends. Regrettably, there is no need for me to leave the castle in the next few weeks. There's no reasonable excuse my father can muster to denied my knight a much needed reprieve.

I hate being trapped here. I don’t know what I’d do if my duties didn’t have me traveling throughout the kingdom every few weeks. I would still have my poet, but I doubt even he could hold my spirits high for very long. I may not be very competent in the practical aspects regarding traveling off the beaten path (I’d be lost without my knight’s experience), but I am a fast learner, and my confidence grows with each outing. I feel at peace when I am surrounded by nature and ancient technology.

I have been wondering, for longer than I should have been, where it would be possible to lie with Zalla. I don’t feel like our room in the library is sufficient. There is my bed. But… somehow that doesn't feel adequate either. He makes feel free. As much as that’s possible, and to have him, fully and properly, in a place that equates to a lavishly disguised prison? That is wrong on a fundamental level. I will need Link’s help… although given the last time I asked for it, I may be better off trying to sneak through the halls on my own. No, I need someone I can trust to distract the guards, and he was right, if I am caught with Zalla, Link will suffer for it as well. He should at least know what I’m planning.

Farore,  <strike> if you can hear me,  </strike> grant me strength in my battle, to see me through.

Din,  <strike>if you can hear me</strike>, give me favor in this fight, and glorious your fire shall rise in the night.

Nayru,  <strike> if you can hear me, </strike> guide me true, and your law I shall resettle.

Hylia,  <strike>I know you can’t hear me, but</strike>, the world has gone dark, evil has begun to brew, please lend me your light.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tiniest of updates. To prove that I still live and that this hasn't been thrown to the winds.

Father has graced me with yet another lecture on devotion, dedication, and responsibility. He has forbade me from my studies. History, language, politics-- everything-- so that I may spend more time in prayer. I simply have no energy left with which to feel anger. I think, perhaps, when the oppressive fog of the King's disappointment has died down significantly enough, I will call upon Zalla's company. I shouldn't… he's another "distraction". Something taking time away from my prayers, but if my mood doesn't recover I fear that Hylia, should She finally take notice of me, will look upon me in disgust like all most others in my life.

I can't bring myself to write to Urbosa of my troubles. She has enough to worry about.

Link, bless him, has tried. He's actually the one who pointed out my fall of spirit. "Crestfallen" is what he called my expression as he handed me a small fruit cake. He is… such a sweet man. I think it's tragic more people haven't seen that side of him.

I have no intention of staying in this miserable headspace. It is simply unacceptable for me to behave like a child whose favorite dog has gone astray. Three things bring me joy. I can't focus on my research in the deafening silence of my room and study. My next expedition is in two days, but that is simply too long for this to continue. Indulging in some music and carnal pleasures might be enough to lift my spirits long enough to keep me from tearing out my hair while I wait for the freedom to travel my kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do still have plans for this and I will try to be out with another small update soon... if I could just stay focused. Oh, god, the voices are starting in again. They won't stop pestering me about Inuyasha. Let this be a lesson, kids, if you are as scatterbrained as I am, don't rewatch the show the introduced anime into your childhood. And don't. For the love of all that is good and holy, start reading the fanfiction. It does things to you. Namely, it forces you start another project when you six already.
> 
> Someone save me from myself.


End file.
